


Combustible

by thornfield_girl



Category: Justified
Genre: Awkward First Times, Explosions, M/M, Minor Injuries, Unconsciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Marshals are caught in a meth lab explosion. When Raylan pushes Tim out of harms way, he is seriously injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Combustible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lymricks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lymricks/gifts).



> I hope this is close enough to your prompt - I had it mostly written when I was asked to pinch hit, so I shoehorned it in.

_Smoke everywhere, hot as fuck, can't hear a goddamn thing_

Tim is slammed to the ground, something heavy and angular on top of him. 

_Can't breathe, can't breathe, get it OFF_

The thing is pulled from him, but he still can't get air, there's no fucking air anywhere. Everything goes dark, could have been hours as far as he can tell, but no, because there's still smoke, still fire. His ears are ringing and everything else is faint, but he can tell there's shouting. 

He pushes himself upright, sits and looks around in a daze. Some kind of explosion, but he can't remember where he is, what they're doing there, what the _fuck_ is going on. He puts his head in his hands until he feels someone, no, two people, lifting him. He's lying down again, rolling along, slid into a van.

 _Meth lab,_ he thinks, just before he passes out.

Tim wakes in the hospital with the worst headache of his life. He's alone. He can't remember details, but he knows enough to put things together. The meth lab outside of Irvine, it must have gone up. There had been a raid, he'd gone with Rachel and Raylan- 

He pushes the call button about twenty times before a floor nurse comes rushing in, running up to his bedside.

"My partners. Are they-"

The nurse breathes out a relieved sigh and cuts him off. "Ms. Brooks is in the waiting room, I'll go tell her you're awake after I check your-"

"Tell her _now._ I'm not letting you touch me until I find out what's going on." Tim starts to sit up straight, needles pulling at his skin, and the nurse places a firm hand on his chest to push him back.

"Alright, Mr. Gutterson. Alright." Her calm gaze somehow convinces him to lie back, and she then she continues. "I'll get her. You were in an explosion, you've suffered several broken ribs and you've fractured your left arm, as well as inhaling some pretty harsh toxins, so please calm down."

"Get Rachel." Tim glares at her until she leaves the room. 

Rachel comes in minutes later, her hair disheveled, with a bandage over her eye, but in one piece. She's looking at him with concern, and she says, "Tim, thank God." She walks up and reaches out like she wants to touch him, but instead she grabs the rail on the side of his bed. 

"Is anyone dead?" he asks. 

"No. Not yet, anyway. One of the SWAT guys is in critical condition, but they're pretty sure he'll pull through."

Tim closes his eyes. "Where's Raylan? If that asshole went home, I'll kick his ass."

Her face falls a little, and Tim's stomach clenches. But no, she said no one died. 

"He's still unconscious," she says. "He was hit by a piece of metal that came flying out in the explosion. And you ought to watch what you say about kicking his ass, seeing as how he might have saved your life."

"What?" 

"Guess you don't remember. You were just behind him when it blew. That cowboy turned right around and tackled you. Took your skinny ass right down. That's when he got hit, it could've been you. So be nice."

Tim stares at her, trying to remember. He hit the ground, something was on top of him... "He'll be okay, right?" 

He's suddenly having trouble getting his breathing under control. Fucking Raylan, he had no right taking the hit for him. If he dies, that'll go right on Tim's conscience. Like he needs anymore of that, he got enough in goddamn Afghanistan. 

"Tim, you gotta calm down. He's two doors down from you. He's unconscious, but he's stable. He's breathing on his own. He's going to be fine." She's touching his arm now, just above the elbow. "I should go. They need to check you out. Art's here too, he just went to get coffee, he'll be back."

"You should go home," Tim says, frowning at her. "Get some sleep."

"I will, soon as Art's here."

"He doesn't need to stay," Tim starts, but Rachel rolls her eyes. 

"You think he's going anywhere? You're an idiot." 

Art's timing is impeccable as always, and he walks in just as she finishes speaking. "Goddamn right," he says. He sounds gruff as ever, but he apparently can't keep his emotions off his face at the moment, and looks at Tim with way too much affection. 

"I'm fine," Tim growls.

"Well shit, son, I can see that. And I know the nurse wants to get in here and do her thing, but I'm glad to see you're in good spirits as always," he says, smirking a little. Rachel," he says, turning towards her, "You go home now. I'll call if Raylan wakes up."

She nods, squeezes Tim's arm where her hand is still resting, and leaves. 

"That was a hell of a thing," Art says. 

"I heard about what he did," Tim says quietly. 

"He did what he was supposed to do, Marshal. He did his job, same as you'd have done in his position. You can thank him when he wakes up, which he will do by tomorrow." Tim thinks he looks like he's trying to convince himself, but he tries to believe it anyway. 

Art finally goes, and the nurse does what she has to do. The doctor comes in too, and Tim's head is killing him, so he takes their pills and drifts off as soon as they leave him alone. 

He sleeps until the morning bustle of the floor wakes him, and the first thing he does is ask about Raylan. He's still unconscious. 

The doctor comes in around eleven and asks him a bunch of questions, orders the IV removed, but ultimately decides that he should spend another night. He figures that's fine, because there's no way he's leaving anyhow. He's not going anywhere until Rayan wakes up and he can talk to him, thank him for what he did. 

Tim is in and out of sleep all day. He talks to Rachel and Art when they visit, and it occurs to him that it's fucking sad that they're his only visitors. He sees Raylan's pregnant ex-wife pass by on the way to his room, then leave ten minutes later, crying. No one is crying for Tim, and he feels fairly pathetic for a few minutes. 

Towards the end of visiting hours, he's just waking up when he could swear he sees Boyd Crowder pass his doorway. He assumes he's hallucinating until the man passes back again, then glances into his room and pauses. He stands in the doorway, nods, and says, "Marshal."

"What the fuck, Crowder?" Tim grits out, his voice rough with sleep. 

"I trust you're recovering well," he says, "Raylan asked about you." 

Tim is on alert, suddenly. "He's awake?"

"No," Crowder says, his face dark and serious. "He was mumbling about you. I have no idea if he could hear anything I said in response, but I told him you were alright. Glad to see I wasn't lying to him."

"Because that's always been a big concern of yours," Tim says, not even sure why he's bothering. But what the hell is he even doing here?

"I didn't come here to fight with anyone. I just came to see how he was. I heard about it on the local news. You may not understand, and he may not believe it, but I do care about Raylan. I'm glad he wasn't conscious though, as I'm quite sure he doesn't want to see me." 

"He saved me," Tim says, once again wondering why he's telling this man anything. 

"So I hear," Crowder replies. "From the nurses. Seems he's a hero." He smiles. "I think the nurse on shift has a bit of a crush on him. Not that I'm surprised. He always did have a gift with the ladies."

"That hasn't changed," Tim says.

"No, I didn't expect it had." Crowder glances down the hallway, then says, "Well, I only wanted to check in."

"I'll tell him you were here," Tim offers.

"Don't bother," Crowder says. "It'll only piss him off. I don't need him to know."

"Suit yourself," Tim replies. Crowder raises a hand and walks away. 

Tim thinks, if Raylan was mumbling, maybe he's getting closer to consciousness. He considers trying to get up to see, but it seems like a huge undertaking at the moment, so he drifts back to sleep. 

At some point in the night, Tim wakes to take a piss. He's about to get back into bed, but instead pulls on the khakis that are folded on the chair and heads out to the hallway. No one is in sight, and he walks two doors down in the direction he'd seen Raylan's visitors coming from. 

Raylan is lying in a bed, hooked up to monitors with an IV in his arm. There is a large bandage on his head, and one on his arm. Tim looks back at the hallway, quickly, and pushes the door mostly closed. 

There's a chair pulled close to the bed, and Tim takes it. This doesn't make any sense, he knows. He'd told the nurse to wake him up when Raylan comes to, no matter when, so he could just wait in his room. He'd really wanted to see for himself, though, just to be sure. Sure of what, Tim's not sure - that he's breathing, that he's in one piece. 

He can hear Raylan breathing, see his chest rising slightly with it. Tim watches that for awhile, finding it soothing. After awhile, he speaks to him, in that awkward way people do around unconscious people, half talking to him and half to himself.

"Rachel told me what happened," he says, his voice slicing through the silent room. "I thought you were a sofa, like in that scene from The Stand. Remember that? You said you were a King fan."

Tim feels like an idiot, but presses on anyway. "You're a good partner, Raylan. You're good at the job. I get frustrated with you sometimes, but I always trust you. You did right by me yesterday, and I won't forget that."

He knows he won't be able to get even half of that out with Raylan awake, so he hopes some of it is absorbed into his subconscious. 

He should leave, he knows. There's no point in being in here. But the softly beeping machines and Raylan's steady breaths are reassuring, and Tim is suddenly very tired, so he lays his head down in his good arm on the side of the bed, and at some point drifts off.

When he wakes, it's still dark, still quiet, and there's a hand in his hair, not stroking it or anything, just lying there. He lifts his head to find Raylan staring at him, and the hand slips off. 

"Raylan, hey," he says, smiling. "You're awake."

"Yeah," Raylan says hoarsely.

"I'm so glad you're alright, man. If you'd died saving me I don't know what I would've done."

Raylan gives him a funny smile and says, "Couldn't have you die yet. I still never even kissed you."

Tim snorts, but when he looks at Raylan he's still got that weird smile on his face. He suddenly wonders if this is some kind of waking dream Raylan is having. Maybe he thinks Tim is someone else. 

"Raylan? I'm gonna call the nurse."

"I saved your ass, Timmy. I think I at least warrant a kiss, don't you?" Raylan's smile has changed a little, become almost seductive, and Tim is freaking out just a little. Is he joking? Or is he actually interested, but only saying so because he's concussed or hallucinating or something?

Tim goes with joking, and he says, "Absolutely, Raylan. Shit, you saved my life, that would probably merit a blow job if you really wanted one. But first, let me just call the - "

"Someone saved my life once. Well, possibly twice, if you want to get technical. So I know the feeling."

 _He's talking about Crowder_ , Tim thinks. _What a weird situation that is._

"Oh yeah?" Tim says, going with what he's sure must be a joke, "You give him a handjob for that at least?"

"At least," Raylan says, and Tim's eyes widen slightly. The man is clearly not himself. "The first time, that is."

Tim reaches over and presses the call button then, in lieu of answering this crazy shit. 

The nurse comes bustling in and rushes to the bed. She frowns at Tim and says, "Mr. Gutterson, you should be in bed."

"I'm staying here," he says. "He saved my life and I haven't finished thanking him yet."

She looked at him, lips pursed, then lets out a tired sigh. "Fine. But sit over there and be quiet."

"Okay."

The nurse checks Raylan's vitals, asks him a bunch of questions, and fetches him some water when he asks. He tells her his head hurts, and she says the doctor will be in shortly, he can order something for that. 

The doctor comes in just as the nurse is finishing up, asks more questions, and says, "Alright, Mr. Givens, we're going to give you something for the pain, as well as a sedative. You need to be sleeping as much as possible while your injury is healing up." He turns to Tim and says, "You should be sleeping too, Mr. Gutterson."

"I will," Tim says. "I need to talk to Raylan for a minute. I'll just stay until he falls asleep."

The doctor nods. "Don't stay long."

"Thank you."

After the nurse attaches something to one of the lines in Raylan's arm and leaves the room, Tim walks over to the bed. "I won't stay long, I'll let you sleep. I just wanted to thank you for what you did. I know it was your job, and I'd have done the same, and all that, you don't have to tell me. But still, thank you."

"You're welcome," Raylan says. "I'm glad you're alright. I was dreaming about you."

"Oh yeah?" Tim asks warily. 

"Yeah, I dreamed that I didn't get you in time and you got your head stove in with something. Then someone told me you were fine, but I didn't believe them, because I could see you weren't at all. But you are."

"I am," Tim says, wondering if that was when Crowder was here. "Just my arm and a few broken ribs from when your surprisingly heavy ass fell on top of me."

"Sorry..." Raylan begins, but breaks out into a big yawn, "...'bout that."

"That's okay," Tim grins, "you can still have the kiss if you want it."

"What?" Raylan looks totally perplexed.

"You must have still been pretty out of it," Tim says. "You said I owed you a kiss for saving me."

Raylan laughs weakly and says, "Did I? Shit... sorry."

"You were just waking up, I figured you were still dreaming or... something. Don't worry about it."

Raylan closes his eyes for a bit, and Tim thinks he must have fallen asleep. He's about to go, when Raylan opens them again, slowly. "Wouldn't mind, though. If you were offering."

Tim's eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at Raylan's bleary face. It's not looking nearly as gorgeous as usual, but still way prettier than it should be, under the circumstances. "Alright," he says, "But you can't get mad later if you decide you didn't really want it." 

He leans over the rail and presses his lips to Raylan's dry, cracked ones, closed-mouthed and soft. He gets no response, so he pulls back, feeling really weird, like it was a mistake that hopefully Raylan won't remember in the morning, when Raylan's hand comes up and curls itself into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

There's no strength in the gesture, but Tim lets it pull him back down anyway, kissing him again and letting his mouth open just a little. He feels just the slightest flutter of Raylan's tongue against his own, and lets out a tiny, muffled grunt of surprise. 

When he stands up, Raylan's eyes are blinking themselves closed, and he has a sleepy, slightly silly smile on his face. "Real nice," he says, and nothing else as he falls asleep. 

"Jesus," Tim mutters, walking slowly out of the room and back down the hallway. "What the hell?"

Tim is released the next morning, and Art is there to pick him up. As he's getting into the passenger seat, struggling with the seat belt a little around the sling, he asks, "Did you see Raylan today?"

"Sure did," Art replies. "The nurse said you were in there last night when he woke up. He doesn't remember it, though."

"Oh," Tim says, not sure if he's more disappointed or relieved. "I'll come back and see him later today. I thanked him, but I guess I'll have to do it again if he can't recall."

But he doesn't go back that day, or the next. He calls Rachel the following morning to find out if he's still there, and she says he is, but he's being released at eleven and she'd agreed to pick him up. 

"I'll do it," Tim blurts, without thinking first. He feels weird about seeing Raylan, but he needs to, he has things to say to him. And he might need to find out what his deal is, why he said those things. Why he kissed him. Maybe Raylan remembers, and maybe not, but Tim's decided not to let him off the hook. "I still need to thank him again for what he did, since Art said he doesn't remember."

"Yeah? Okay, if you want. Can you drive with that arm?"

"Sure," he says, "It's an automatic."

He gets to the hospital at ten minutes before eleven and goes up to Raylan's room. He's signing some paperwork and there's a plastic bag with his belongings in it, on the bed next to him. 

Raylan looks up at him, unsmiling. "Hey, Tim. Rachel texted me to say you offered to pick me up. I would've said no if she'd told me earlier. You shouldn't be driving around yet.

Tim shrugs. "I'm going a little stir crazy anyhow, just sitting around my apartment. You know how it is." Raylan just nods, and Tim adds, "Besides, I need to talk to you. Art said you don't remember me being in your room, so that means you don't remember me thanking you for saving my life."

Raylan looks at him for a minute, then picks up the clipboard he'd set on the bed and holds it up. "I gotta give this to the nurse. Hang on."

He walks out of the room, to the nurses' station, and comes back moments later. "They're bringing a wheelchair. We can go in a minute." 

Tim starts to speak, and Raylan cuts him off. "You're not allowed to thank me for that, goddamn it. It's what I'm supposed to do, and it's what any one of us would do, and any one of us would feel like shit if someone got hurt or worse doing it. I get this weird feeling like you think you're not worth it, but fuck it. That's not my problem."

The nurse brings the wheelchair around, and as soon as Raylan is settled, starts pushing him out the door. When they get to the lobby, she stops by the doors and says to Tim, "He's all yours."

"Lucky me," Tim mutters. To Raylan, he says, "I can go get the car and pull it around if you want."

Raylan scowls at him and says, "I ain't a new mama. I can walk to the fucking car." 

They drive in silence for a few minutes, then Raylan asks, "You mind stopping at the store? I got nothing in the fridge."

"Okay," Tim says, taking the next right to the Kroger. 

They walk through the store and draw some stares, Raylan's head still bandaged and Tim's arm in a sling, and both of them with scraped up, singed faces. Raylan grabs milk and eggs, orange juice, several frozen pizzas, roast beef from the deli, and some apples and bananas. 

A young woman walks past them and smiles warmly, like she thinks they're cute, and Tim belatedly realizes exactly what they look like. Before he can get it out, Raylan says, "I bet everyone thinks we're boyfriends who were in a house fire together."

Tim starts laughing, and says, "I was thinking car accident, but yeah. Pretty much."

They check out and head to Raylan's place. Tim parks on the street and ignores Raylan's protests as he helps him bring his groceries in. 

"Are you on anything?" Raylan asks. "Want a drink?"

"I would," Tim replies, "but I take it you can't, and I don't want to drink alone."

Raylan shrugs. "I think I could drink a beer."

"Okay, then. Sure, a beer."

Raylan pulls two bottles out and walks into the small living room. He takes a long pull from his beer, then asks, "How long until you go back to work?"

Tim sighs. "I'll be back on limited duty Monday. The cast comes off in two weeks, and then I guess it depends on how long rehab takes. You?"

"No clue. We'll see what the doctor says when I go back next week." Tim fiddles with the label on his bottle for a few seconds, then takes a breath and says, "Raylan, do you really not remember me being in your room that night?"

Raylan glances up at him, then back down, frowning. "I figured I'd give you the opportunity to pretend that never happened. Guess you're passing on it."

"Guess so." Tim is gripping his bottle so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if it shattered. He's suddenly sure this is a mistake, but he's gone too far now to back out of it. He has no idea how to ask what he wants to ask. He's always been bad at this, even under normal circumstances. 

"I'm sorry I put you in that position," Raylan says. "I was pretty fucked up, you know. No filter."

Tim nods. "I know that, Raylan. It's not like I'm pissed about it or anything. I'm just a little confused about it. What did you- I mean, why- " He cuts off in frustration with himself. This should not be so difficult.

"I think I just always wanted to kiss you, man," Raylan says, scowling a little down at his hands. "I don't know. I never thought about it much normally, but then we almost got ourselves killed, and my head was messed up, and they gave me those drugs, and there you were. But, like I said, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of you feeling beholden, or whatever."

"What?" Tim feels stupid for a second, and like they're having two different conversations. "No, Raylan... I'm the one who took advantage. You were the one lying helpless in the damn bed, all concussed and high. Jesus."

Raylan quirks his eyebrows at him. "So you wanted to kiss me?"

"Since about two minutes after I met you. You didn't know that?"

Raylan snorts. "I didn't even know you were into guys. You never talk about your personal life."

"And your personal life involves nothing but a string of beautiful, leggy blonde women. So, I guess you haven't exactly been forthcoming either."

Raylan looks up at the ceiling and smiles. "No, I haven't. It's being back here. Kentucky. It makes me feel a little bit... inhibited, you could say. It don't feel so simple here."

Tim nods. That makes sense. "It's not Harlan, though. It's not like you grew up here in Lexington."

Raylan cocks his head in acknowledgement, but says, "I feel like I'm in Harlan more than I'm here, sometimes. Too many familiar faces." 

"Boyd Crowder came to see you when you were out," Tim says. "He didn't want me to tell you, but shit, I don't think I owe him any favors, so."

Raylan smiles slightly. "Is that a question?"

"Not really. I think I get the picture. How long?"

Raylan sighs heavily and says, "I don't even know how to answer that. The first time I kissed him, we were fifteen. The last time was when I came to interview him about the church bombing. You can draw your own conclusions from that." 

"Shit," Tim says, laughing sharply. "You kissed him that day? In that fucking church with the Nazi flag on the wall?" 

Raylan smiles ruefully and says, "Yeah, I did. Maybe I wanted to see if I could roll back time."

"Didn't work, huh."

"For a few seconds, it did."

Tim finishes off his beer and sets the bottle on the floor. "I got two broken ribs and an arm in a cast. You got a head injury and a bad burn. Maybe it's the beer talking, but in my opinion, we are two badass, sexy motherfuckers."

Raylan grins. "You think? So, what, you want to fool around or something? Seems like a bad idea."

"It's a terrible idea," Tim says, grinning right back at him. 

Raylan puts his bottle on the table and looks at him thoughtfully. "If it's only this once, will that be alright with you?"

Tim shrugs. "If it ends up being more than this once, is that alright with you?"

Raylan gets up and starts walking out of the room. He looks back at Tim on the sofa and says, "Well? You coming? I don't think the couch is gonna work so well with that sling on your arm."

Tim blinks at him, then stands up. "You're a smooth operator, Givens."

Raylan walks back to where he's standing and reaches out for Tim's hips. He pulls him in and looks down at his face. "I'm sorry. You require wooing of some kind?" He lowers his head and kisses him, swiping his tongue gently against Tim's a few times and swaying into him. "How's that?"

"Uh..."

"Right. Let's go." Raylan turns around and walks into the bedroom, shedding his t-shirt along the way. 

Tim figures he can think about this tomorrow, because if it's a mistake, it's one he wants to make. 

It's awkward and clumsy at first, both because of the injuries and because they don't know each other in this way - or, really, very well at all in any way. Mostly, they end up getting naked and lying around on Raylan's bed, kissing and fumbling around. It feels a little like high school, experimental, but they both manage to get off eventually.

"I'm usually better at this," Raylan says. "You're gonna have to let me prove it to you some time."

Tim looks at him in surprise, but says, "I don't know, Raylan. That ranks pretty low on my mental catalogue of hand jobs received. I saw no evidence of any ninja skills."

"Whatever, man. You didn't exactly put on a clinic in cocksucking either," Raylan replies peevishly.

"Oh, fine. I guess we could try again when we're all healed up. I will admit that you're a pretty fucking good kisser, though."

"I know," Raylan says, then leans over and gives him one. He yawns immediately after. "I need a painkiller and a nap. Thanks for coming to pick me up today. And for, you know."

"The crappy blowjob? You're welcome."

Tim smiles and gets up to put his clothes back on. He brings Raylan a pill and some water, then leans in the doorway. 

"I guess I'm outta here," Tim says. "I'll give you a call this week, okay?"

"Do that," Raylan says, and as Tim is turning to leave, he adds, "It wasn't all that crappy, by the way." 

Tim just laughs and waves as he walks out the door.


End file.
